"Oh, thank you," and her eyes shone. "What a funny little bridge."
"That's Kissing Bridge."
"Who do you have to kiss?" asked the little girl mirthfully.
"Well, a long while ago, in Van Twiller's time, I guess," with a twinkle in his eye, "there wasn't any bridge. The lovers used to carry their sweethearts over, and the charge was a kiss."
"But there wasn't any kissing bridge then," she said shrewdly.
"When the bridge was built they stopped and kissed out of remembrance."
"Was it really so, Margaret?"
"It has been called that ever since I can remember."
"You unkind girl, not to believe me!" exclaimed Stephen, with an air of offended dignity. "And I am ever so much older than Margaret."
"You didn't carry me over, but you carried the roses, so you shall have the kiss all the same," and as she reached up to his cheek they both smiled.